


Escaping Fate

by bittersweet_skylines



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Enemies to Lovers, Historical Inaccuracy, Inconsistent writing style, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Prince!Race, aquaintances to friends to lovers, but not really, scenes of minor violence, thief!Spot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26006125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittersweet_skylines/pseuds/bittersweet_skylines
Summary: Prince Antonio Higgins is destined for a life he doesn't want to fulfill. He doesn't want to follow through with his arranged marriage, nor does he want to take over the crown. With the wedding in the morning, and his official coronation at the end of the month, he feels trapped.So when he catches a thief robbing the castle vaults in the middle of a banquet, Antonio takes this opportunity to escape, using this mysterious man as a guide as he leaves the royal life behind and sinks into a much simpler life, if only for a night.At least, that was what he hoped.[proper title TBD]
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 9
Kudos: 24





	1. The Man in the Vault

**Author's Note:**

> Quick notes!   
> 1\. This story doesn't have a specific time or location. It's kinda but not really Italy on the later end of the of the renaissance. As this is just a passion project, historical accuracy isn't my highest priority. I'll never mention a real place outside of a brief mention of France, so they could be anywhere.   
> 2\. I don't know how long this will be, but I'm aiming for less than ten chapters. Updates are gonna be sporadic, just as I feel like updating as I'm now working on two fics at once.   
> 3\. This is based, and has scenes directly pasted from a RP I did a while ago, but the excerpts only go as far as the first two chapters. So, if Spot's dialogue style changes a lot, that's on me for not changing and adapting it even though I changed a lot of it already. I've gotten permission to remix it and I'm not entirely sure why I'm disclosing this but you know. Just in case!   
> 4\. This is only partially edited, because I hate editing, so I'm sorry about any typos or sentances that don't make sense. I'll edit it some day but we will see.

Antonio Higgins was a prince who was to be wed and crowned King at the end of the month when he had no desire to do so. It was expected for him to marry some lovely heiress from France, the fifth and youngest child of a wealthy Duke. They’d shipped a portrait when his parents had arranged the marriage. She was beautiful, with auburn hair and brown eyes. Antonio would be lying if he said he hadn’t been transfixed on the image. She was a sight to see, sure, as long as her portrait accurately portrayed her appearance. The wedding was tomorrow, and he had yet to meet her. He was supposed to meet her tonight at the rehearsal banquet. That was the way his life worked, but the nerves still swirled in his stomach. 

On the rare occasion, when he passed through the towns and villages with his father for business matters, he found himself fascinated with everyone he passed. They were common folk, but they had some sense of freedom. Something Antonio never thought he’d have. He would never have realistically. The castle was his home, with walls to keep the world out, and a crown weighing down his head. 

He didn’t want the safety of a crown. He didn’t want to act proper and be responsible for thousands of people. He didn’t want to marry a woman just to gain more power. He didn’t want to marry a woman for love, either. He just didn’t want to marry. It was ridiculous, apparently, unfathomable to his parents that he wanted to take a different path in life. However, he was coming on nineteen now. His mother passed away last spring, and his father was on his deathbed, though he would never show it. So he had to marry. He had to take over all the responsibilities he didn’t want. That was the way life worked. 

Antonio had a brother once, but he died young. Sixteen- he had been two years older than him. He was supposed to be the heir to the throne. His brother had been the one who had been trained to take over the kingdom someday. Antonio had been educated, yes, and prepared for the throne just in case, but he never  _ felt  _ ready. There was comfort, knowing that he would never have to fill his father’s shoes. Then, after a terrible illness had swept through the castle, the comfort was taken away from him in a matter of days. 

Tonight, in a matter of two hours, his father would be hosting the celebration banquet for Emilee de  la Trémoïlle . He’d invited noblemen and women from near and far, as well as Emilee. The castle would be bustling down on the main floor, but upstairs- where the bed chambers, the study, the library, and so many more unneeded rooms would be left free- aside from a handful of guards who would roam. 

The night had barely begun, and his heart was racing. He had yet to leave his bed chambers, and he was already counting down the minutes until he could escape the crowds. Antonio was used to entertaining masses of guests. He liked to think that he was quite good at wooing nobles and making them fall in love with him. It was the woman that he would meet that scared him the most. He was about to meet the woman who he would spend the rest of his life with, and the thought made him sick with nerves. 

Guests began to appear in clusters as he finished getting dressed, a task he had delayed as long as possible. He watched from his window, stowed on the second floor as one of the maids helped him dress, moving around him without asking as if she had been dressing a statue. Just as she pulled away and curtsied, dismissing herself from the room, another servant appeared. This one was dressed to serve the guests. He recognized him- a young boy with a name that began with an A, but he couldn’t remember the rest. 

“The King is waiting on your attendance,” the boy said, to which Antonio just bowed his head. He fixed his collar in the mirror and sighed before he followed the servant out, not waiting for him to shut the door behind him.

He couldn’t stay the whole night. He knew that already. If he stayed, he would just be overwhelmed. So he’d eat, and once the crowd began to move about the space, chatting and dancing in the hall, he would slip away, just for an hour or two. 

Antonio put on the smile he’d learn to fake so well as he walked down the stairs, his gaze passing over men and women he had probably seen at some point in his life but barely recognized. They all passed through his life so sparingly, it was like watching Nightjars come and go in their lavish gardens. They were all beautiful, but they looked so similar that Antonio couldn’t pick out the one he’d spent all day yesterday with from a line.

Most of the guests had already arrived, Antonio assumed. The flow of people passed the main staircase towards the main hall had thinned out, leaving only the last few stragglers to head to the main entrance, where the noise was already overwhelming as conversations erupted. Laughter rang out all over a quartet playing a vaguely familiar tune. His father told him the invite list was around sixty. Antonio wasn’t the smartest with numbers, but it felt more like a hundred. 

Until last year, Antonio’s father hired a tutor for him, who taught him enough about reading, writing, and philosophy. However, he didn’t care much for the third one. In his mind, the world was the way it was. People thought the way they did, and that was all. The concepts of philosophy never made sense to him, and so nothing stuck with him. 

The King had been waiting for Antonio. He stood at the bottom of the staircase, a guard on either side of the railing. Silently, Antonio descended the staircase and landed beside his father. He refused to turn to face him. Instead, he stared directly ahead to greet the last few guests as if he had been there the entire time. 

“You are late,” his father said through gritted teeth. He gave a small nod to a man who passed by. Antonio mirrored him, nodding before he just put on another one of his smiles. 

“I can’t see how I’m late if I’ve been here the entire time,” Antonio replied. His father side-eyed him before he shook his head and led him to the main hall where dinner was being served.

He exchanged greetings with Emilee before they were seated. She was quiet- much smaller and fragile than Antonio had pictured her. The man who painted her portrait did an excellent job capturing all the beautiful details about her while making her seem more plump and sure of herself. She looked as if she was about to faint. Perhaps it was because she was as nervous as Antonio was?

Of course, he didn’t say anything. He had no reason to, as now they were seated at the long table. The King sat at the table’s head, with Antonio to the left and Emilee across from him.

His father stood and began a speech. Antonio hadn’t meant to, but he found himself not listening to the words coming out of his mouth as soon as he began speaking of the upcoming wedding. Instead, he found himself staring at one of the noblemen down the table until he looked back at him. Then, he dropped his gaze and returned it to the King as he spoke, still going on about the couples union. 

The nobleman smiled, and Antonio offered a smile back. This man was one he could recognize, a familiar face in the sea of fancy dresses and stern faces. He winked, and Antonio quickly moved his gaze back to his father, his face flushed red. He looked at Emilee, who also gave a smile, and suddenly everything was blurring into one motion. Nothing was making sense; nothing was processing. His father’s words sounded like distant echoes. Everything was collapsing in on himself. 

Without thinking, he stood abruptly from the table, knocking the table with his knees harshly. 

He stared at his father for a beat, heart racing. He felt like a deer- staring down a hunter whose arrow was pointed right between its eyes. All the colour had left his face, leaving him a pale shell of himself. 

“Pardon me for a moment,” he said, his voice far too quiet for anyone outside of his Father and the very close people to hear. There was a short burst of gossip around the table. Still, he ignored it, smiling once more at Emilee before he disappeared upstairs. His father said something, though he didn’t catch it. 

One of the guards at the bottom of the stairs tried to stop him, but the moment his hand wrapped itself around Antonio’s slim arm, he was pulling away. 

“Please,” he said quietly, backing away from the guard before he ran up the stairs, taking two at a time. 

He knew he wouldn’t have long before his father sent servants to find him. For all he knew, he had sent for someone to collect Antonio from the moment he left the grand hall. Antonio would make sure he went somewhere he wouldn’t be found immediately. He just needed a moment. He tried not to think about it as he roamed the halls, but he was already picturing the conversation his father would have with him come tonight when the two were alone. 

_ “Do you know how much you embarrassed our household? There is a way you’ve been taught to behave, and you don’t. What will make you see that reputation means everything to people like us? What will make you smarten up and do as you’re told! How do you expect me to hand you the crown if you can’t keep yourself together for one evening!” _

Antonio shook his head from the thoughts as he walked, picking up his pace as he heard his name echo through the hallway. He turned down another corridor before he found himself in the servants’ ward. He tried to keep out of sight as he wandered, slowing his breathing as he tried to calm himself down. It was hard, considering the fact that he was currently running and hiding from anyone in the castle. 

He took a staircase back down to the main floor, the steps narrowing as he continued down a second flight into the basement. 

He navigated the basement, staying away from the dungeons before finding himself in front of the treasure chamber. The guard usually stationed in front of it was missing, though he didn’t think anything of it. He supposed that he had managed to make it during a change of shift. 

So without much thought, he turned the handle and pulled the large oak door open and slipped into the treasure room. He closed his eyes as he shut the door, pressing his back against it before he slid down the door, allowing himself to sit down on the floor. 

The dark, cool air was calming. It was rare for him to get moments like this, engulfed in silence and darkness. The only light came through the cracks around the door, and a small oil lamp lit in the corner, though he overlooked that small detail. 

A noise from across the room pricked his ears up. Slowly, he looked up and around the chamber, though he couldn’t see anything. Hesitantly, as he heard something shift again, he turned up the dial on the oil lamp and raised the flame. The extra light didn’t show anything, just allowed him to gaze around the  _ shapes  _ in the room. 

He wasn’t sure if he should walk around to the other side of the display case, but his feet were moving before he could even decide. A rat, he told himself. It was a rat that had managed to get in through the walls. 

Suddenly, just as he was rounding the corner, a figure jumped up and pushed him, pinning him harshly against the wall. He let out a small yelp before a hand covered his mouth. The man- it  _ had  _ to be a man, was shorter than him, barely making it up to his shoulder, but he pinned him against the wall with such strength that Antonio couldn’t move. His foot stamped down on Antonio’s own, and while he couldn’t feel it, he couldn’t move it either. 

“Scream and I kill you,” the man said, his voice low and quiet. He removed his hand from his mouth and reached into a bag or a pocket. He couldn’t tell. 

Antonio swallowed as he brought a knife towards his stomach, pressing it lightly. All he could do was stare, eyes wide and body completely frozen. 

“Are they looking for you?” he asked. Antonio let his mouth fall open, but no words came out. Instead, he was engulfed with his racing thoughts.  _ I am going to die tonight _ , he thought.  _ I am going to die, and it will be because an intruder stabbed me _ . 

“Answer me!” the man pushed him harder against the wall. Antonio winced. 

“Yes,” he answered truthfully. “But… not here. They will not- they will assume I’ve taken to my study… or- or my bed-chamber,” he quickly added, the thought crossing his mind that the guards looking for him would not be in his favour. 

“Damn…” he muttered, his gaze flicking around the chamber. Antonio was still shaking, looking around, trying to find something that would help him get out of this position. 

He could’ve sworn he could feel the knife dig deeper into his jerkin, past his undershirt, and into his stomach. His skin was crawling; it felt like tens of knives were gliding lightly against his skin, threatening to go deeper at any moment. He couldn’t tell what was real and what was part of his own sick imagination. 

His father would be laughing if he saw this happen. Yes, he would. The King had taught him to properly fight for years, with the promise that the two of them would someday fight side by side in a war. He’d had a trainer beat Antonio down to a pulp every day until he could barely push himself up from the ground. 

He hated that he was just standing here. He hated that his father was right when he had told him countless times that he would be useless in a fight. He was standing here, his body not letting him fight back, and the only thing crossing his mind was his Father. He would be laughing at him, take out this intruder with one quick swing, and then he would do the same to Antonio. Just to make a point. 

“Please don’t hurt me,” he managed to get out. 

“You ain’t the one in charge here,” he sneered. He took in his appearance, every move seeming to be accessed. He looked at Antonio curiously before removing the knife and carefully brought it up to the pendant around his neck. Antonio swallowed as the knife drew closer, stupidly raising his chin hirer, trying to avoid the blade but just giving him more room to slit his throat if he wanted to. 

The knife was brought up in one swift moment, and it broke the chain, his pendant dropping into the stranger’s hand. 

“You cannot  _ take _ that,” Antonio exclaimed, quietly, too scared to actually make enough noise for anyone outside of the two of them to hear. Still, he didn’t even make a move to reach for it. His gaze never left it as the man held it up, observing it with fascination before he dropped it in the bag he was carrying with himself. 

“I just told you, you aren’t in charge,” the man spat back. “Stay right there until I decide what to do with you,” he continued, his voice gaining a one of seriousity as he stared into Antonio’s wide, scared eyes. Antonio could do nothing but nod. “If you try to escape or attack, I’ll kill you without hesitation.”

Footsteps came from outside the room, causing the man to pause, staring at the door with his weapon ready. Antonio turned to the door, still up against the wall despite not being pinned. He believed him when he said he would murder him. Antonio knew that if he moved, he would die. His heart was racing a mile a minute, and he didn’t particularly want to die. He knew he couldn’t just stand there and watch this happen. 

Then, as soon as the steps faded, the man took the large, heavily decorated crown from the center display. He examined it, careful not to get his fingerprints on the delicate metal. He brushed his fingers against some of the precious jewels and then smirked, tossing it so carelessly into his linen bag. He swallowed, slowly clenching and unclenching his fists, retraining his body to be able to move on its own after being paralyzed for so long. 

As soon as the stranger turned his back, Antonio took in a deep breath. In one swift movement, he grabbed a scepter from the wall beside him. He swallowed thickly and forced his feet to move against his beating heart’s fear and ran at him, taking his chance to pin the other up against the wall, his back against Antonio’s stomach tightly with the scepter placed firmly across his shoulders. The man gasped in pain as his face hit the wall. He had dropped his bag, so Antonio took the opportunity to kick the bag away. He didn’t know if he could hold him for very long- the man proved to be quite strong for his size -but he had him pinned for now. 

“I want… I want to know what makes you think that you’re so  _ privileged  _ to waltz into my home... and- and take  _ my _ ...” he fumbled over his words, cursing himself for struggling so much to come up with words in the moment. He could feel the man’s body relax, which only caused Antonio to press harder. 

“What? Can’t find the right words?” he mocked, before letting out a small, bitter laugh. “Who would’ve thought? The prince is nothing more than a  _ pathetic _ , weak fool… Unable to take on even the lowest of thieves. Ha! Pathetic.” 

Antonio kicked him roughly in the shin, unsure of what else to do at that moment. He barely reacted, his knees buckling, but he recovered all too quickly. 

“You couldn’t even wound me with that if ya tried. Couldn’t you have chosen something better? Something sharper?” he taunted. “Oh! But of course, you’ve never hurt a man,  _ my lord _ , forget killing one. Forget killing  _ me. _ ” 

Antonio was shaking, his breath coming out in shallow huffs. He straightened his posture, keeping his stance as best as he could. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the stranger cut him off. 

“Don’t even try to fake it. I can  _ feel  _ your breath. You’re scared.  _ You’re horrified _ … I bet you’d faint at the sight of my blood.” 

He didn’t like the confident tone the man sported. The short, cocky laughs he took in between sentences. The fact that he was so relaxed against Antonio’s grip, knowing that it didn’t matter if he struggled. He’d be able to get out of Antonio’s grip the second it was convenient to him. 

“Which is quite shocking. I didn’t think that you would be so scared to harm someone. I’ve watched your Father separate families when he felt the need to go to war… I’ve seen kids  _ lynched  _ by your guards for stealing nothing more than a loaf of bread. I’ve seen my friends- the people I’m close to beheaded for speaking out against your Father’s rule. You’d think I’d be the one afraid of you, your highness. Yet here we are. You have me pinned, and you’re  _ still  _ shaking. You are in control, and you’re about to cry…. As if you’re searching for my pity, but I have no pity for you. So fuck you! You think I’d bow down to respect you? You think because you wear a crown on your head, you’re better than the rest of us? You’re a  _ fool _ . A fool who deserves to live in the streets with the rest of us. You and your entire family!” To finish it off, the man spat in his face, hitting Antonio right in the eye. 

Antonio just listened, his grip relaxing as he continued talking. He wasn’t sure how to process the words coming out of the other’s mouth. Was he telling the truth? His father had said to him that punishments were for the real criminals, the ones who broke the law and put others in harm's way. He had only seen a beheading once when he was young. The man had murdered! Not for merely  _ talking. _ He tried to gather up words to speak, trying to find some way to justify his father’s actions, but nothing came to mind. Perhaps he  _ was  _ weak and a fool. He must be if he was trusting the rules over a stranger instead of his own father. 

“I deserved that,” he muttered, removing one hand to wipe the spit off of his face. 

He  _ was  _ a fool, he concluded—an idiot, considering the next set of words that came out of his mouth. 

“I am going to let you go,” he said slowly, making sure he was sure of his words as they came out. “I am going to release you. You will return the crown and my mother’s pendant. Then… I will open the safe, inside will be gold. Fill your bag with it…. Just- just leave the crown. No fool will want it in their possession after… after my father declares it missing… Then I will see to it personally that you get out of here without being caught. My only condition is that you do not attack me when my scepter comes down.” 

Antonio got no response, but he slowly pulled away, the scepter still pointed towards him as he slowly backed away. His hands still shook, but all the man did was turn around to face Antonio. 

"I won't attack you again, I may be a filthy thief, but I am not an idiot,” he snapped. The boy took a step to the left, dark eyes not leaving Antonio as he moved. "Now, fulfill your promise. We don't have much time left. I’m sure that soon someone will start looking for you... Open the safe now."

“Don’t forget who you’re talking to… thief,” Antonio said, trying so desperately to match his snarky remarks. He backed up across the room, keeping his gaze on the other as he made his way towards the safe. 

“Of course,  _ Prince. _ ” 

He only turned around when he absolutely had to, working through the locking mechanism before he swung it open and took a step back. Greed lit up in his eyes as he grabbed his bag, pressing the crown and the pendant in his hand before he turned towards the safe. 

Antonio couldn’t watch as the man piled as much of the coin into his bag. Instead, he busied himself by placing his crown back on its display. This crown would be placed on his head in less than a month as he was crowned King. It was heavy; he knew from several fittings during the process of its construction. It was lavish, gold plated with rare jewels from around the world encrusted on it. It paled in comparison to his father’s crown, but Antonio’s head was much smaller than his father’s, and he would never be able to wear it without looking absolutely ridiculous. 

“Why are you doing this?” the man suddenly pipped up. Antonio turned to face him. His bag was as full as it possibly could, dropped on the floor by his feet. He was baffled by the question. If the man was so desperate for the coin, why would he care what made the prince want to give up his own riches?

“I… don’t know,” he responded honestly. “Are you ready, though? I have a banquet to get back to… the longer I am gone, the more desperate that the guards will begin searching for me.” 

“You could have easily called for aid. You could’ve easily gotten me tossed in the dungeon without a second thought for even crossing the grounds. Yet here you are, letting me take what I wish and  _ offering  _ to make sure I get out of here without being caught. Why? Could it be...? Even  _ you  _ hate this place? Huh. Your father won't be too happy with what you're doing right now! God, that's more amusing than I thought it would be.”

“Do not push it. You’ll make me second guess my actions,” Antonio stressed. “Now, are you ready?”

“Of course. Why don’t you take me on a tour, your highness?” the man said sarcastically. 

“Perhaps if you hadn’t come on such a busy night,” he echoed without much thought, thinking that the thief was serious about it. The man let out a small huff of a laugh. 

“What? You thought I was serious? Oh, how generous! A real sightseeing tour around the castle from the  _ prince  _ himself?! God- perhaps I should teach you how to identify sarcasm in the process,” he said, letting out another laugh. Only this one had been more soft- perhaps a genuine laugh? Or maybe Antonio just was getting used to his harshness. 

Antonio paused, choosing to not listen to him. He sighed before he undid the buttons on his doublet, shrugging it off himself before he handed it over to the other. It wouldn’t fit right at all, he was aware, but he had to think of a plan quickly, and this is what he had come up with. 

“Put this on,” he responded. “You won’t fit it, however, if someone sees us, it’ll look as if I’ve simply gone off with someone… Another nobleman, perhaps. Trust me… it’ll work.” 

He looked at it curiously before he shrugged it on, adjusting it’s much too long sleeves. 

“What do you say, Prince Antonio, am I the belle of the ball?” he teased, buttoning up what he could. Antonio offered a small smile. 

God, what was he doing?

“You and I will be the couple everyone brings their eyes to,” Antonio said lightly. The man quirked an eyebrow, smirking slightly. 

“That’s very… e-qui-vocal,” he said, sounding out the word. Antonio recognized it instantly, but he could tell it felt foreign on the other’s tongue. 

“Equivocal indeed,” Antonio mused. “I’m assuming I don’t need to inform you to stay quiet while navigating the halls.”

With that, he opened the door just a crack to gaze down the hall. Just to check if anyone was standing by. The guard by the treasure chamber door was still mysteriously missing, which was rather curious for Antonio. He had no clue where he might have gone, or if the thief beside him had anything to do with it. 

For the sake of his own sanity, however, he decided to pretend that they were still switching shifts, despite the fact that their interaction had taken at least three quarters of an hour. 

Antonio knew the castle well, even the halls which he  _ technically  _ wasn’t supposed to go to. The servants’ quarters were off-limits, as was the basement. He didn’t listen, however, and if he was caught, he usually found a way around it. He was almost positive that the staff of the castle pitied him. Perhaps they were aware of what happened behind closed doors with his father, which was why most of them turned the other way whenever he was somewhere he wasn’t meant to be. 

He led the man through the labyrinth of the basement before he led him up the same narrow staircase that he had taken to get down. They had to go up single file, Antonio leading while the man trailed behind, his bag making an uncomfortable sound of clinking metals. 

When they reached the landing, Antonio quickly backed down again at the sound of footsteps. He was thankful that the man seemed to catch on quickly and follow his lead. The footsteps neared, coming closer and closer before one of the guards stopped in front of Antonio. 

He looked at the Prince curiously before he eyed the stranger behind him. Antonio made an effort to hide him behind his frame. He had attempted to grab at his hand, but the man drew away quickly. He should have known that would happen. 

“Prince Antonio, your father has all us looking for you,” he said. Antonio nodded slowly. His posture deflated suddenly. 

“I will be along soon, I assure you. Please, do not tell my father where you found me,” Antonio asked quietly. He was scared again, though this was a different type of scared than how he had reacted to the man. He was relying on someone else to keep himself out of trouble. He knew he would be regardless, but if the guard could keep his secret…

“I am afraid I cannot do that, your highness. I must go report to the King but… I will not make you follow behind me,” the guard said. Antonio nodded. 

“Thank you, sir,” Antonio replied. The guard gave one last glance to the man before he turned and began to make his way down the hall. His heart was racing as he waited for him to round the corner before he finally started moving, bringing the man in the opposite direction that the guard had taken. 

The staircase was close to one of the servants' exits, their quick way to get to the garden if they were to tend to it without being seen. So, that was where he took the man. 

“ _ I’m afraid I can’t do that, your highness, _ ” the man mocked, his voice just low enough that Antonio could catch it. “If I just got caught, I’m taking you down with me.” He tensed his jaw but said nothing, his main concern was to get this man out of here safe, even if he didn’t appreciate all that he was risking just for an intruder. 

Antonio sighed as he pushed open the door and gestured for him to exit the castle. He did, and Antonio followed even though he knew this was as far as he would be able to take him.

The man took a deep breath as if drinking in the night’s air. The moon was full, shining brightly down upon the gardens, casting a soft, luminous glow over the flowers and bushes. There was not a cloud in the sky, exposing the world to the thousand twinkling stars. 

“I suppose this is it,” Antonio said, staring up to the stars. “You must hurry along. If you go straight, you’ll reach a small gate. You won’t be able to lock it once out, but I’ll come back to do it… Once I can sneak away safely again.” 

He thought of his father, a scowl painted on his face, although he had thrown such a wonderful celebration. One that should’ve been perfect if it wasn’t for his pathetic excuse for a son. His father standing by the stairs, already planning the speech he’d give Anthony when he returned. Perhaps he would smack him upside the head. He thought of Emilee, her soft, nervous smile, in a room filled with strangers. Feeling like an outsider while the boy he was meant to marry was off hiding in the castle like a coward. He thought of the gossip that would surface because of it, not because of the man, but because the Prince was beginning to grow a habit of disappearing during highly important events. He thought of his marriage, having to say his vows in front of a woman he barely knew to continue the royal line. 

He thought of the stars, twinkling brightly in the sky. How free they were, suspended in Heaven without responsibility or a care in the world. 

“Something is wrong,” the man remarked, snapping Antonio out of his thoughts. He gave a small smile before he shook his head. 

“Nothing is wrong,” he replied, a knee jerk response to that statement. “I wish you the best, sir.”

“Don’t call me sir,” the other responded. He wasn’t cold; it was just a statement. He wasn’t sure how they had come to some sort of mutual agreement not to speak cruelly to each other. “The name is Sean, most people call me Spot.”

Antonio made a small face. He’d never heard of anyone being named after a stain on clothes before. Or a pattern for cloth. In fact, he’d never heard anyone refer to themselves as a shape. Or anything other than a proper name. Then again, he supposed he wasn’t used to anyone using another name for themself. 

“Ain’t ever heard of a nickname?” he questioned. Antonio shook his head. 

“Well, now you have.”

Antonio paused. 

“You should go,” he said. “The guards will be back here soon.”

Spot glanced at the door, then to the wall of the castle, and then nodded. 

“Well, thank you for the money, Tony,” Spot said. “I hope you’re a slightly less shitty ruler when you take over your scum of a father’s position. I hope you have a lovely wife and rule responsibly…  _ not that you will _ .” 

Antonio stared at him as he spoke.  _ Have a lovely wife, and rule responsibly.  _ That was all everyone expected from him. He was to be married to Emilee tomorrow, and then he would be crowned King, and then he would die, and he would lead the same life as his father had. Forever stuck in the same loop. 

But the other was going to leave to who knows where. He would be living a life with no control, no set plan with who knows how much of Antonio’s wealth. Antonio couldn’t even begin to imagine what he would do. Travel somewhere new? Actually aid others instead of destroying lives? He could buy his own land now, where he could build a small cottage and live peacefully. 

Anthony’s heart was racing as he watched the other begin to walk away. He stepped away from the door, letting it shut behind him so he was fully standing outside. Spot would live a better life now; Antonio was bound for something worse. His feet were glued to the small flat outside the door, lips parted. He didn’t want to say goodbye, as ridiculous as it might sound. He had just spent the last hour being threatened and robbed and mocked, and he wanted to go with him. He wanted to taste the freedom that Spot got to experience every day. He didn’t want to live by the strict schedule he was given daily. He knew he had to, though. He knew he had to go back to the banquet. He knew he had to go back to royal life, but then he thought of Spot’s smile. The genuine one that he had gotten only once, and how (once you got past the initial shock and horror),  _ exciting  _ it had been. For once, he wasn’t being put on a pedestal just for being born into a royal bloodline. The words were climbing out his throat, begging to come out. 

His heart raced faster, and his eyes grew wide, his feet running to catch up to Spot, who had already crossed the gardens almost entirely. 

“Wait!” he suddenly exclaimed as he caught up to him. It took him a moment to finally be at his side again, hands shaking. He took a moment to stare into the other’s eyes, searching for some sort of sign to tell him not to say it. Instead, he just stared at Antonio with confusion. It took him a moment to realize Spot was waiting for him to speak. 

“Take me with you.”


	2. Stars in the Roof

“I’m sorry, what?” Spot sputtered, a pure look of shock on his face. Anthony froze. His entire body tense. He waited for the other to continue, but he never did. He just kept staring at Anthony as if he just confessed his love to the thief. 

“I said, take me with you,” Anthony repeated, the words feeling foreign in his mouth now. The first time was on impulse. He hadn’t thought of the words as they shaped and spilled out of his mouth. Now though, he stood his ground, feet planted into the ground with his posture just a bit straighter. He was sure of himself and what he was asking. He wanted to go with Spot. It was brought up on impulse, but his gut said this was the right thing. 

Spot stared at him for a moment more before he barked out a laugh, threw his head back. He calmed himself and looked at the other. All the humour was gone from his face. 

“Give me one good reason why I should risk kidnapping the Prince,” he said, that cold tone returning to his voice. Antonio hesitated, seeming to consider his reasons before he shook his head. 

“I have no reasons that would benefit you,” Antonio admitted, averting his gaze to look down at his shoes. He didn’t want to see Spot’s reaction. 

“No,” Spot decided. Antonio swallowed, glancing back at the servants’ entrance. The guard would have likely found the King by now. His heart still raced, quicker and quicker. It was chasing a dream that Spot was ready to shoot down without giving him a moment of consideration. 

“Please, sir… I-“

“I told you, don’t call me Sir,” Spot snapped. “I will never stoop so low to that. I ain’t royalty. I don’t need respect from you, and I will not be helping you escape.”

Antonio felt tears begin to swell in his eyes. He blinked, silently willing the tears to disappear back into his head, hoping that they wouldn’t roll down his cheeks. If they did, heaven forbid, he prayed that the other would not notice in the dim, limited light. 

“What can I do to convince you?” Antonio asked. Spot opened his mouth, the idea of shutting him down again on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he seemed to think, and that gesture alone made Antonio’s stomach spark hope. 

“I can be your personal servant,” Antonio suggested. “I will shine your shoes, and I will clean your clothes, prepare your food… tend to your horse! You present the idea to me, and I will follow suit. I will do whatever you say and-“

“I don’t need a slave! I ain’t like you royal folk. I survive by myself, I tend to myself, and I don’t rely on others,” Spot snapped, shutting him down without letting the other finish. Antonio visibly shrunk in on himself. There was no way he’d convince the other. He could tell now. He glanced back at the servant’s door. It was time for him to resign and attend what was left of the ball. Perhaps his father would be so kind as to not punish him until the guests took to their rooms or left the grounds. 

“I understand,” Antonio said. “I am deeply sorry I brought it up.” 

Spot narrowed his eyes. Antonio could tell his apology would be rejected. He deflated a bit before he turned around and began walking. It took two steps before the servant’s door swung open, letting a small stream of light leak into the castle gardens. They weren’t in the direct line, so they still remained covered by the darkness. 

“Antonio!” His father’s voice bellowed from the door. His silhouette appeared in the doorframe. “Antonio! You come out of the gardens this instant. There are guests waiting for you.” Antonio could only assume that the guard that caught him was flanking behind, perhaps with a handful of others to begin a rescue mission. Antonio took a deep, shaky breath. He could brave this out, he told himself. If he could not leave the castle with Spot, he would not call attention to him. He would make sure that he was found so that Spot could go freely. 

“Okay,” Spot said, his voice a whisper yell. “You can come. Think we can get outta here without your shitty father noticing?” He asked. Antonio hesitated. He heard his father bark an order- find him- before he shook his head. 

“We would have to run,” Antonio admitted. “And pray that we are not caught.”

Spot seemed to consider this. 

“If we go now, my horse is tied to a tree just on the inside of the forest. We find him, and we’s free.” 

Antonio watched him for a moment, but it was a moment too long. Footsteps were flooding out of the door. He was frozen. He had no choice. He had to stay. He could not risk getting Spot caught over him wanting to follow. Freedom might be worth the risk, but the life of a friend- someone he considered a friend, anyway- was not. 

Regardless, after Antonio seemed to not answer, Spot grabbed onto his hand and gave a harsh tug, beginning to run in the direction of the gate. Antonio hadn’t processed that he was running alongside him until he heard someone shout at the two of them to stop. 

“Unlock it!” Spot exclaimed quietly as they reached the gate. Small and easily missable if you did not know to look there. Antonio fumbled with the lock, despite its simplistic nature. The two got through the gate, and Antonio shut it. They were safe for just a moment. 

“Now we run like the wind,” Spot said. Antonio nodded vigorously. “Think ya can keep up?” He challenged. 

Spot took off towards the forest, and Antonio followed suit. There was still shouting. The two had to have been caught, but Antonio could not bring his focus away from making sure he followed the thief. He was much more nimble than Antonio, but he often found himself passing the other in speed. 

Following him was much harder once the two used the trees for shelter, weaving in and out of the uneven terrain. Spot seemed to float over everything, missing tree roots and rock as if they were moving out of the way for him. Antonio, on the other hand, kept tripping over anything that was raised from the ground even slightly. 

As soon as his eyes fell on the other’s horse, though, he picked up his pace, passing the other before he stopped at the horse for a short breath. Spot almost looked impressed as he caught up. 

“Jesus Racer. Ya never told me you were fast,” Spot said as he untied the horse from the tree. 

“No, I’m not. You must have been slowed down by all those coins,” Antonio dismissed. The nickname the other had given made his skin crawl. Or perhaps that was the beads of sweat rolling down the back of his neck. He was sure he would never become accustomed to that. He could only hope it wouldn’t stick. 

“Prince Antonio!” A voice exclaimed, presumably a guard from a nearby cleared path. Antonio glanced at Spot, who was already climbing on top of his horse’s back. 

“I should go back,” Antonio said. “We will be caught- there’s no way.”

“Do you trust me?” Spot asked. 

“No,” Antonio admitted without missing a beat. Spot rolled his eyes, the annoyance seeping through his posture. He held out his hand. 

“Get on,” he ordered. Antonio was going to back out. Too many scenarios were running through his head; however, his hand went up to Spot’s anyway. The other hoisted Antonio up with ease. Antonio took barely a second to get comfortable before Spot ordered the horse to start moving. He lurched back with a jolt before his arms wrapped securely around the other’s waist. 

He had no clue where Spot planned on taking him. They would be absolute fools to take the main roads or to go into the nearest city. Antonio could only assume the other was from the town. While he had nothing but distrust for the thief, he stayed silent, knowing that Spot would be smart about avoiding who they needed to avoid. 

Spot took them deeper into the forest. The horse seemed to navigate it with ease, despite the thickening brush. The moon was shining through the leaves, only managing to sneak through it in sporadic patches. It was enough for them to make out the shapes and more accessible paths of the forest, at least, that was what he assumed. Antonio could still hear men calling for him, along with the fading noises of other horse’s hooves. 

Antonio’s instinct was to rest his head against the other’s shoulder, or perhaps his back, but he resisted. He sat tall, though he was gripping the other’s waist much more than he needed to. If confronted by it, it was not intentional. If he wasn’t holding on as tight as he was, he was sure he would fall off. There was no way he wouldn’t. 

“Do you think we lost them?” Antonio asked after the silence of the forest swallowed them whole. For an unmeasured set of time, there had been no yelling or footsteps. There were no horses following them, no figures appearing from the shadows. Antonio’s only source of time was the moon- that had begun to drop slowly in the sky, and the trees- which were shifting from deciduous to evergreen. There were no evergreens around the forest of the castle, not for miles. That had to be something good. 

“Can never be too sure,” Spot replied, his voice low. 

“I could use a drink,” Antonio mentioned casually. 

“So can I. You can wait,” Spot said. Antonio went quiet then. Spot had the horse slow down to a soft trot as they navigated the forest. The trees were thinning now. He could see the sky more clearly. Not a single cloud dared to show itself. The moon helped give them light to navigate. 

Spot found a stream and began to lead the horse to follow it down. They trotted silently, Spot’s tranquillity harshly juxtaposing Antonio’s racing heart and sweaty palms. Spot seemed to shift, twisting his spine as if trying to get Antonio to move back from the other. Antonio sat straighter, loosening his arms upon instinct. The last thing he needed was to make the other uncomfortable. 

“I have to go to the city tomorrow. I have debts to pay, after that… Well, just make sure this is something you want to do,” Spot said absently. The stream began to widen, the water starting to make a mild trickling noise. 

“They will be looking for me,” Antonio pointed out uneasily. “It would be suicide if I followed.”

“I’m well aware, Tony,” Spot said flatly. “I know a place you can wait… I use it for shelter regularly. No one will think to look for a prissy Prince there.”

“Why?” Antonio asked, concern seeping through his voice. 

“Why will no one look for you there?” Spot mused. Antonio paused before he nodded. There was a beat of silence, and then Spot let out a short huff.

“Fine, don’t bother responding,” he muttered. “No one will look for you there because it’s a forgotten house, nearly collapsed in on itself. Just west of the city, just far enough in the trees that you can’t see it.”

“I wish I knew what the guards are thinking,” Antonio said, mostly to himself. 

“I’m sure they can’t fathom that their precious Prince chose to run away,” Spot commented. “Hopefully I was covered enough by the darkness. Surely they’ll convince themselves that you were kidnapped.” 

Antonio hesitated, loosening his grip around the other’s waist as Spot brought the horse to an even slower trot. 

“That guard saw us… Saw you,” Antonio said. “With me. I played you off as a noble. He will be able to recite what you look like.” 

Spot tensed, his back straightening. He cleared his throat before he stopped the horse. 

“It’s a good thing we won’t be staying then,” Spot said tensely. He got off the horse, and Antonio followed suit. His legs buckled slightly, taking a few steps just to steady himself. Antonio was hesitant to respond. 

“Where will we go?” Antonio asked. 

“Anywhere away from the city. It’ll take a few days for the news to spread to your neighbouring towns. A description of me will get lost in translation, surely. A couple days out of the kingdom, and you won’t be recognizable. I’ll stay with you until you learn the ropes, or you get bored and choose to go back to your riches,” Spot explained. He dipped his hand into the stream. Antonio just watched. 

“You… You’re going to leave me?” He asked. He hated the quiver of nervousness in his voice. He hated the idea of Spot leaving him alone in the world more, though. 

“I ride solo,” Spot said simply. “I didn’t get the chance to mention that when we were being chased down?” He asked. Antonio just shook his head. 

Spot hummed to himself before he cupped the stream water in his hands and sipped it. Antonio wasn’t quite sure what to do, so instead, he mirrored the other, sipping the cool water from his hands. It felt wrong. He had once spent a day learning just how to properly hold the different types of glasses. Now he was drinking water from his hands. 

Perhaps he had made a mistake. 

“I’d say this is a good place to camp for the night. We won’t make a fire; hopefully, it doesn’t get too cold… Only a few hours now before sunrise anyways,” Spot decided, standing up. He gazed around the area before he kicked at a pile of rotting mulch. Spot sat down against a tree and pulled off Antonio’s doublet, which he had still been wearing. 

“We’re to sleep on the ground?” Antonio asked, his mouth agape. 

“Oh shut your mouth, you’ll catch flies,” Spot snapped. “If you want to come with me, you need to get used to these things and fast. I won’t tolerate your bullshit. This is my day to day life. Being an outlaw isn’t sunshine and grand balls. It’s hard. You choosing to come with me wasn’t you choosing the glamorous life of a lord. You aren’t even a peasant, not until you establish yourself somewhere. So for now, this is your reality.” 

Antonio froze. He hadn’t expected the other to snap like that. He hadn’t meant to annoy him to the point of causing him to yell. Was that going to be expected between them? How long was there going to be a them to begin with? 

Instead of speaking more, Antonio walked over to another tree, giving Spot plenty of distance between them. He figured it would be easier for them to tolerate each other in the morning if Antonio stopped annoying him. 

Spot didn’t say anything as he got comfortable, keeping the sack of gold coins close to him as if Antonio was going to pick them up and steal them. What was he going to do with it? Return to the palace and admit that he let a thief take it all? That he felt guilty? No. If Antonio went home empty-handed, he was going to be beaten to a pulp. If he returned with the vaults gold? Antonio would be dead. His father would find some way to keep the family alive without him. 

Soon, Spot was snoring. Loudly. Antonio wasn’t entirely sure how to react. He couldn’t sleep. Not because of the snoring, simply because his body would not calm down. Every sound drew his attention. Every movement caused him to sit up and look around in a panic. Every time the horse turned its head, Antonio followed, expecting a guard to be approaching with his sword drawn. 

He watched as the moon lost its vividness, replaced by the warm glow of the sun over the horizon, fighting to get through the rows upon rows of trees. He was shivering from the cold, but the sunbeams weren’t providing him with any warmth. His eyes were growing heavy, his breathing slowed gradually. 

He was tired, yes, but it felt wrong to sleep at the same time as Spot. It was such an easy way for them to get caught, wasn’t it? Had Spot been thinking of that when he chose this spot to settle down? It was so open… So… 

Antonio gazed around as if trying to catch the guards that were coming for him. He should go back. He didn’t want to- he knew if he did, there would be hell to pay. This was an impulsive decision, though. It was not for the best. This man had threatened to kill him! He made his distaste for the Royal family known when Antonio first caught him, so what was stopping him from slitting Antonio’s throat the second he had a chance to? Nothing. Antonio was a dead man either way… Maybe it would be better to be a dead man with a crown weighing down his head. 

He hesitated, then slowly, he stood up. The horse, which was a well built, dark brown breed of some sort, watched him. 

Antonio took one glance at Spot before he decided to leave his doublet with him. He didn’t need it, and it would make this so much easier to go before Spot woke. His only issue was he didn’t know which direction the castle was. He knew to follow the stream. However, they didn’t always have the stream to guide them. They veered away at some point, but when? 

Antonio figured he might as well just walk. If he kept walking in the right general direction, he had to be found, right? 

“Somethin’ there?” Spot grumbled as he shifted onto his back, running a hand down his face before he sat up. Antonio jumped at his voice. He hesitated before he turned around. What was he supposed to do, lie?

“N- No,” Antonio replied. “I um- I just-“

“If you wanna chicken out, do it now. I ain’t got time to deal with you whining about how much you regret following me,” Spot said, looking at the other. He could see right through Antonio, and Antonio tensed. 

“I don’t,” he replied without thinking. “I mean… Perhaps I do. Perhaps I want to go back, but only for my safety. I can’t trust you. I should have never-“

“You wouldn’t have come with me in the first place if you didn’t trust me at least a little bit, Tony,” Spot said, running a hand through his hair. He yawned, still waking up. Antonio considered this. Spot was right, wasn’t he? He sighed, looking upstream. Then he looked back to Spot, who had now gotten to his feet. He stretched, and Antonio could hear his bones crack. Spot seemed so calm, so relaxed.

“My name isn’t Tony,” Antonio said. 

“It is now if ya don’t wanna get caught,” Spot said. “You think someone won’t hear you say your name and instantly match you with the missing Prince’s description?” Spot laughed. “There’s gonna be a reward for your return, you know it. People are gonna jump at the chance if they notice it’s you. Which is why we need to get outta here. Ain’t no going back.”

“Where are we going?” Antonio asked. Spot shrugged. He began to tie his bag to the back of the horse. 

“For now, we get you to that hiding place. I’ll get ya a horse so we don’t need to ride on Finch together. Probably hard on his back,” Spot explained. “Then we head south. There are less major cities that way. News about you will go there first.” 

“And settle?” Antonio asked. Spot shook his head. 

“I ain’t settling here. My plan was to get a ship and go to Spain… Possibly reconnect with family,” Spot said. His tone took on a softer, more sheepish tone. As if he was ashamed to admit that his goal was to eventually go home to his family. 

“I can’t go to Spain,” Antonio said. “My home is here.” 

“You left your home. You have no home now, not until you find it. I ain’t helping with that. I’m just gonna show you the ropes so you don’t die. Then I’m gone,” Spot said. He hoisted himself on the horse before he held out his hand. “So let’s go.”

Antonio took his hand before he brought himself up as well. He settled in comfortably before Spot began to redirect the horse. The sun was still just starting to come up, though Antonio supposed it was best the two of them travel in darkness anyways. 

Spot led the horse through the forest until they came across the main path that connected the city to the castle. Antonio felt far too exposed, but he said nothing. He hunched his back, an unfamiliar feeling for him, and then he ducked his head, staring down at the dirt on either side of the horse. They rode in silence- something Antonio hoped wouldn’t become a habit- for what seemed like an hour. They went past the city’s edge, following the path before Spot took a road into another forest. 

A small cottage came into view. The roof had been caved in. Vines crawled up the walls, and there were no doors. It was clearly unkept, and upon first glance, it looked unlived in. However, when Spot got off Finch and lead Antonio inside, it had belongings thrown about. A blanket on the floor by the hearth of the fireplace, a table and chair (though the chair didn’t look stable enough to sit in) pushed up against another corner. There was a small basket with some bread and fruit. The door was leaned against the wall, right beside the door. He didn’t ask why it had been taken off its hinges. 

“It’s not much, but I’m sure you’ll survive here for an afternoon,” Spot said, setting the bag down next to the neatly stacked firewood. He stretched his back, rolling his shoulders to ease some of the tension carrying all that gold had created. 

Antonio nodded slowly. He stared at the bread, suddenly aware of how hungry he was. The last time he ate was yesterday morning. He had run off from the banquet so fast that he had only managed to get a few bites in. Spot seemed to notice this. He raised an eyebrow. 

“If you want it, go ahead, Tony,” he said, nodding to the bread. “It’s stale. Might be moulding… but I’ll be getting some better stuff today.” He was taking out coins, counting them out in his hand. He had a smaller pouch to put enough coins to travel with. 

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Antonio denied. He shook his head, though his gaze settled on the bread once more. Maybe once Spot had left, he decided. He didn’t want to eat it in front of Spot… who knew what stale, moulding bread would taste like. 

“Whatever you say,” Spot said as he stood again. He tied the pouch around his waist. “You need more common clothes,” he said. “Strip a couple layers off, and you may look passable, but…” He shook his head and sighed. “I’ll be seeing if I can find something for me, so I might as well guess at something that might fit for you.” 

Antonio nodded slowly. His mind was elsewhere currently. He could care less about what plans Spot had been thinking up all morning. He just knew that the two of them were to leave the city before dusk and that Spot was going to get him what he needed to survive. He didn’t care about how or why. Perhaps he should. He had been trained to look at every possible option when making a decision, but this wasn’t his decision to make. He supposed he was a follower now. The leader in him, however small it might have been, was left behind at the palace. 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Spot said. “If someone finds this place, hold your breath and pretend to be dead.”

“That cannot be your actual plan,” Antonio responded. How ridiculous! They would tell he was alive in an instant. Spot shrugged. 

“You think of something better then.” 

Antonio was not used to being alone. Even during his free time at the palace, he was almost always accompanied by someone. Whether it be a guard, or a maid or a servant. Sometimes it had been Albert, the son of his nearly lifelong tutor. 

Now though, he was sitting on top of a dusty blanket on a dusty floor, staring outside a door frame at a forest. He was sure that Spot had only been gone a few hours. The sun was still high in the sky, shining through the hole in the ceiling. He had no reason to think that the other had gotten into trouble. 

But regardless, he was bored. 

He picked at the dirt underneath his nails. He wasn’t entirely sure how it had gotten there, or when it had, but he had successfully cleaned out his nails in a matter of minutes. 

He hummed quietly, though after hearing a noise from outside, he quickly shut up. 

His stomach was growling, and his gaze kept going back to the basket of fruit and bread. He hesitated, considering his options before he leaned over and dragged the basket closer. Spot was right. The bread was as hard as a rock. He knocked his knuckles on the crust, trying to hide his shock at the stiff noise it had made. 

He tore the bread in half, twisting it from side to side before it tore. He examined it. He could handle stale bread, perhaps, but Antonio was going to starve before he put mould into his mouth. 

Antonio bit the bread. His eyes widened as he had to use his hands to pull the bread away, leaving a small piece in his mouth to chew. It was like chewing on a rock. He felt like he had to use every muscle in his face just to help his saliva break down the flavourless bread. He would have been better off chewing paper. At least that dissolved on his tongue. 

Regardless, he worked his way through the chunk he had torn off. He hated every second of it. Clearly, whoever had baked this bread had no clue what they were doing. If the bread had been fresh, it would have still had an off texture and no flavour. 

He couldn’t help but think about fresh rolls that the castle chef would make every Sunday and Wednesday. They were served with breakfast, often with lavish preserves of far away fruits to spread on. Sometimes he would glaze them with honey, sometimes they were sprinkled with just a bit of salt chunks. The thought alone had his mouth water. 

However, when he looked back at the basket, he wiped at his mouth and acted as if nothing had happened. He longed for fresh bread, but was it worth it to give up the only chance of freedom that he had? Perhaps, actually. No. Gosh, no! Antonio would be crazy if he went home just for bread. 

The King would likely not have him back anyways. He had always been walking on thin ice around his father. Last night- a combination of his stunt in the dining room, helping a thief steal who knows how much money and then proceeding to run away with him- was probably the last straw. His father would hang him if he was caught. He would stage it in the woods and frame Spot, or whoever they thought he might have run away with. 

If he let him live, his life would be living hell until his father passed on. Even then, the ghost of his father would stay with him. He was always inside Antonio’s mind, planting small seeds of doubt or dictating his decisions. Antonio tried to ignore him, but sometimes he couldn’t help it. 

_ You could barely handle hunting a deer, and you think you can survive out in the world on your own?  _

_ Your mouth was watering at bread. You’ll miss your luxuries too much to bear it. Just give up. Go back to the castle.  _

Not home. The castle. 

Antonio shook the tension from his upper body. He had to get his mind off of food and his father. He had to think of anything that wasn’t connected back to the castle. Anything. 

Antonio stood but quickly froze at the sound of horses hooves hitting the path. There was more than one, he could tell. Was it someone looking for him? Could it have been Spot? Wouldn’t Spot had said something by now if he was approaching? Perhaps warn him?

Slowly, he grabbed a piece of firewood and held it tightly in his hands, holding it up over his shoulder, hoping that he could swing it if he needed. He stepped against the wall, shrinking back by the door. He hoped he was out of sight. 

“You are piss poor at making it look like no one is kicking around,” Spot’s cold voice came. Antonio dropped the wood in surprise, dropping it on his own foot. He cried out in pain, kicking his foot away. He leaned against the wall for support, pulling his knee to his chest and clutching onto his foot. Spot looked unamused the entire time. 

“You would think a Prince would have more grace than that, Tony,” Spot said, walking past him. He put a crate down in the corner before he grabbed a pile of clothes and tossed it at Antonio, who was still recovering from his foot injury. 

“Well I… I usually am,” Antonio said as he set down his foot. He hesitated before he picked up the clothing. It was simple. Not much different from his underclothes, but he could tell the fabric hadn’t been weaved as nicely as his own. 

“Get changed,” Spot said. “We’re going to stay here tonight… I have some meat I want to smoke and preserve. I don’t wanna be relying on being somewhere to get food.” 

Antonio nodded as he changed. He peeled off his formal outfit, discarding it on the floor, and replaced it with the much simpler clothing. The pants were too short, the shirt too loose, but the arms fit nicely. Spot hadn’t gotten him a new set of shoes. He silently thanked him for that. Clearly, he was terrible at guessing what would fit him. 

“You’ll be smoking the meat?” He clarified. “How does that preserve it better than salting it?” 

“It’s easier to just eat after it’s smoked,” Spot said simply. “No more stupid questions.”

“It wasn’t stupid,” he replied. 

“Yes, it was. It’s basic food knowledge.” Spot picked up some of the smaller logs and began to stack them in the fireplace’s hearth. Antonio looked around before he decided to sit down on the floor, watching the other. 

He opened his mouth to speak before he shut it again. Stupid question, he thought. He wouldn’t waste his breath on it just to get insulted. He sighed quietly and folded his legs, one under the other. So he just watched. 

“You have a family in Spain?” Antonio finally spoke up. Spot glanced at him. He seemed to think about it before he continued working on the fire. 

“No,” he said stiffly. 

“You said you did earlier. Did you lie to me?” Antonio questioned. Then a pause. “Or… is someone else waiting for you?” 

“No, no one is waiting for me,” Spot admitted. “My parents abandoned me when I was young, so I know nothing about them. No relatives wanted me. I grew up in an orphanage, but the Sisters kicked me out when I was eight or nine… so I was on the streets. I ended up in Italy through… one way or another. Worked for a man for a couple years, and now I’m ready to go back. It’s been long enough.”

“How long?” 

Spot shrugged. He was striking two stones together now, getting sparks. 

“Go get me some dried grass from outside, or some leaves,” Spot instructed. Antonio took a moment before he processed what he had asked. The realization sparked across his face, and then he got up, leaving the small cottage. 

He looked around before pulling on one of the tree branches, tugging and tugging until the branch snapped off. He looked at the bundle of leaves on it satisfied. That had to be enough, wouldn’t it? Just to be safe, he leaned down and grabbed a fist full of the dry grass like Spot had said, gathering as much up as he possibly could. 

When he stepped back inside, Spot gave one glance in his direction and rolled his eyes. 

“Gimme the grass, ditch the leaves and get me more dried shit,” Spot said. Antonio looked at the branch, frowning. 

“These aren’t good enough?” Antonio asked. 

“They’re greener than a- a- a something that’s just green!” Spot exclaimed. “They ain’t gonna light up at all!” 

“Well how was I supposed to know?!” Antonio responded. “I have never done this before! I’ve never even watched someone start a fire!” 

“Well that is just pathetic,” Spot said flatly. “Go get some dried leaves, and I’ll show ya how to start a fire.”

Antonio hesitated before he disappeared again. He grabbed fallen, brown leaves from around the bases of the trees. He gathered as much grass as he could. Both the horses, tied to their own tree, were eyeing him suspiciously. He ignored them the best he could. 

He returned with much better kindling than the first time. Spot gave a nod of approval before Antonio dropped it by the rest. Instantly, he began to gather the leaves and grass under his neatly stacked logs. 

“Okay, take these,” Spot said, handing Antonio a small piece of steel and a black rock. 

Antonio took them, rolling both the pieces over his hand. 

“Hold em close to the kindlin’ now…” When Antonio did nothing, Spot took his hands and brought them closer. Antonio looked at him as if waiting for the next move. 

“Now strike them together,” he said, leaning back. 

Antonio did. Nothing happened. 

“Keep going,” Spot said. “The flint and steel will hit together, and it’ll spark. Just gotta get it to catch.”

Antonio did it. Again, and again and nothing was happening. He huffed, deflating back before he dropped the two items on the hearth. 

“You just do it,” he said. “I can’t! I’m not cut out for these tasks.”

“Well you need to learn,” Spot said. He picked them up and put them both firmly back in his hands. “You’ll get there.”

Antonio sighed and gave it one last half-hearted strike. Spot rolled his eyes before he moved to sit beside him. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around Antonio and took hold of both his hands. Antonio tensed, but he didn’t pull away. 

“Oh relax, I ain’t gonna kiss ya or anything. Just trust me,” he said coldly. Antonio relaxed, but his mind was racing. Maybe that was his heart. He could remember the last time someone held him like this, and he knew this wasn’t a romantic moment, but oh how he wanted it to be. Just… with someone else. 

Spot guided his hands, striking the materials together with his hands. Sparks were coming now. One, two, three, four times and then the grass caught. Spot leaned forward and blew on it gently. Antonio watched as the little fire spread, hoping it would catch on. 

“See how I did it?” He said. Antonio nodded, and suddenly Spot was explaining the logic behind it. Antonio wasn’t listening, though. He should be, he knew he should, but he was just watching his mouth move. How focused he was. How he knew more about the world than Antonio even though he was the one who spent years learning about it. 

“Make sense?” Spot said. Antonio just smiled and nodded. 

“I think it’ll take a while for me to get it, but…” 

“Good. The faster you catch on, the better,” Spot said. The fire was starting to grow properly now. Antonio moved a bit back from the flame. Spot started to move about, preparing whatever cut of meat he had gotten to smoke. 

“The flame is too high to smoke right now,” Spot said. “But there ain’t any harm in cooking some of it up, right?” He glanced behind at Antonio. 

Antonio nodded before he turned to the fire. 

“I don’t know how to cook,” Antonio said, staring at the growing flame. Spot made a small noise. It almost sounded like a laugh. 

“Why does that not surprise me?” He said sarcastically. “Come on, Tony, I’ll teach ya a thing or two… or twelve.” 

“Might have to teach me more than that,” he admitted, moving to sit closer. 

That night, after the fire had gone down to a soft flame, the two set up a makeshift bed in front of the fireplace. Spot had an old, musty blanket that they used as a mattress, and then they used Antonio’s old clothing as pillows, though they hardly resembled them. For just a brief moment, Antonio let himself fantasize about his bed at the castle. Then, as soon as he indulged, he pushed the thought away. 

“I wish we were laying outside… looking at the stars,” Antonio admitted, breaking a long silence that the two had formed. Spot lifted his head and looked at him. He wasn’t sure if that was a queue to keep going or not, but Antonio did anyway. 

“I used to do it with my lo- my friend. He was the son of my tutor and the two, along with his mother, used to live at the castle when they were employed,” he began, shifting to stare up at the ceiling. He took a deep breath. “He was my... best friend… I suppose my only friend, actually. We used to sneak into each other’s rooms at night and stay up reading poetry or talking about our dreams… which, sounds so pathetic b-“

“It’s not pathetic,” Spot interjected. 

“Little bit, but thanks,” he laughed. “Anyway. He and I would do everything together. It wasn’t like I cared about my tutoring… my brother was supposed to be the king, not me. I never took the time to learn how to do it… So when my brother died, he and I would spend even more time together. He was… my comfort. We always liked to look at the stars, but after my brother… it became more common after his death. Almost three times a week if the weather would allow it. I’d stare at the stars and think about how I’d love to be up there. Beyond this world… with the people who I loved… Almost all of them were gone at this point.”

“I know stars are just stars, that they hold no memory or souls or life but… I wanted to be one. Albert… entertained that idea, I suppose. He just let me lay in the grass and talk about how wonderful life would be, lighting up the sky. He listened to me talk about anything… and I did him. He was… my everything, I suppose. My one person to turn to.”

“You speak in past tense,” Spot pointed out. Antonio hesitated before he nodded. 

“He’s with my brother and mother now,” he said quietly. 

“How did he die?”

Antonio was quiet as he recounted the day in his mind. A door that hadn’t been locked. A tutor who had come into the library a quarter of an hour too early. Pain. Fists. Being yanked away—the quick, sharp bullet through his temple. 

“My- the flu had come through the castle… he got it… and he didn’t survive,” he lied. “My tutor left after he recovered, he and his wife… I suppose they didn’t want to be around where their son died.”

Antonio swallowed thickly, knitting his eyebrows together. 

“I didn’t want to be around there either.” 

Spot sighed. Antonio sat up then and ran a hand through his hair. Spot watched curiously as he moved before he sat up too. There was a moment where they locked eyes. 

“I hope this works out for you then,” Spot said. “That you don’t end up with them soon, but… You’re happy with the life you’ve led before you do.”

Antonio sat, unsure of what to say. This wasn’t the same man who had been ridiculing him all day, was it? The same one who shut down every idea he had and called him stupid for not knowing basic tasks. Basic tasks that Antonio had never had to do before. 

“I hope so too.” Antonio gave a small nod before he started to lay down again. 

“Do you want to look at the stars?” Spot asked. “We can see them through the hole in the roof,” he pointed out. Antonio gave a small smile. 

“Can we?” 

Spot nodded. They both stood then and dragged the blanket under the hole. This time they laid side by side, shoulders brushing. Antonio didn’t say anything as they adjusted and got comfortable. For a brief moment, Spot’s fingers brushed against his own before he folded them on his stomach. Antonio glanced at Spot, who was already falling asleep and silently made a promise to himself. 

No matter what happened, Spot would not share the same fate as Albert. He wasn’t going to let his feelings grow beyond where they were now. He was just someone here to help him. 

He wasn’t going to fall in love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a hot minute since i uploaded chapter one but its fine. Here’s chapter two finally. 
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr @bittersweet-skylines


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